


The Price of Rest

by Nibsy



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Sleep Deprivation, Urban Fantasy, not sure how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nibsy/pseuds/Nibsy
Summary: This is original fiction.Elijah Drawbridge, tired young man, is trying to solve a rather big problem on his own. With family ties, a mysterious boyfriend and a strange sickness involved, he will soon have to open up and ask for help when everything suddenly escalates into unforeseen danger.





	The Price of Rest

The rain had not stopped pouring for three days. Elijah rushed down the glossy grey streets and past towering glass buildings under the orange sky, huddled into his jacket. The clothes he wore were too thin, not enough protection against the growing cold; the last ray of pale sun had long been replaced by the yellow blur of the few street lamps and the white, glaring glow of thousands of windows all around. As he walked, he moved away from the shiny scrapers and entered the more familiar shady streets where the buildings were slightly less towering and definitely less dazzling. Here, the buildings were old, cracked and built of muddy red bricks: his neighbourhood, where people worked odd hours and didn’t sleep nearly as much as they should, but not by choice… never by choice, when you lived here.

There wasn't many people out at this hour ― not in these streets anyway. Elijah's footsteps were the only sound around, splashing here and there on the small puddles that never seemed to go away. He had stopped caring about it a while ago; his feet were already freezing at this point. It probably wasn't even that cold, really, if he was honest. Late autumn, yes. Rain, of course. But the wind wasn't strong, the temperature probably not too far under 10° C. What really didn't help Elijah's shivering, really, was the exhaustion. Elijah wouldn't have called it that, himself ― if asked, he'd said it was a bit of strain, just a long day, really. Anything but that word.

Exhaustion. That was a word nobody dared pronounce, these days. When it came on the news, it was never for a good story: always linked to more loss ― of friends, of work, of money... of life, really. One couldn't be exhausted. That was the one thing to avoid at all costs. But truth be told, Elijah was exhausted. It didn’t matter. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight either.  
Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets just to try and keep them from freezing, he turned a corner and soon came into view of his apartment building; tall and grey as the rest of them, looming even more than the dark clouds not that far above its shadowy roof. Elijah gazed at them for a minute, letting too many droplets fall onto his raised face. It felt nice; the rain, if he forgot the cold for a minute. Fresh and cleansing, in this dirty street. His hands were dry enough to hurt. Work had been long, work had been boring. Just like everyday, but three days without a wink of sleep was beginning to feel like too long. Coming back to himself, Elijah adjusted his worn cap, buried himself a bit deeper into his collar, and stepped into the small shop down the street from his flat.

“Welcome”, muttered the bored store clerk from behind the counter. She was young; too young to be working this late, Elijah thought. She was there most nights, nonetheless. Elijah couldn't help but think about it every time he came by. Shrugging, trying to get a bit warmer in the sparse heat of the shop, he quickly made his way around, looking most of all for a bag of coffee powder. He soon found the right aisle, and picked his coffee from the shelf. Just as he was about to leave, something caught his eye. Right next to the coffee selection were displayed several bags and packets of gummies, and next to them the sleeping pills that you could buy over the counter. Despite himself, Elijah stopped to look. All these nice gummies, right here in this shithole of a street. Who would buy them here? Elijah couldn’t believe the price tags he was seeing. Nobody he knew had that kind of money. Certainly not himself.  
Still, the colourful packets and endless list of benefits listed in fancy fonts were so tempting that he thought for a moment to slip a small one right into his pocket. Quickly, subtly… nobody would know. Elijah could run out the store, never come again. Inconvenient, but worth it? From the corner of his eye Elijah noticed the clerk eyeing him from behind her counter. No use.  
Next to the pretty gummies were the bland, simple pill packets. Three kinds, three price tags. He sighed, and picked a box of the blue ones ― the shitty ones. Then he quickly paid for both items, and some biscuits for good measure, with a couple of crumpled bills he found his backpack.

The moment he stepped outside again, he suddenly felt his phone ring in his pocket. The screen displayed the name Ana. Feeling a slight pinch in his chest, he picked up.  
“Hey, are you okay?”  
On the other end of the line, Ana let out a shaky sigh. “How do you know I’m not?”  
“The time at which you call. The fact that you call me at all. What’s going on?”  
“Jeez, alright, I get it. I’m just… Eli, I’m so sorry…” He heard the sob swelling up in her voice, felt it right through his own heart. “I’m so sorry,” she continued, “I’m all out.”  
“You’ve finished them already? Ana…! I don’t have anymore pills, you know I gave them all to you!”  
“I know! I know… I couldn’t stand it, Elijah… I was so tired of the nightmares, I thought if I took more than one, I thought… I don’t know, that’s the thing, I don’t think anymore! I took them all and it didn’t even work! I don’t know what to do, Eli, I’m exh-”  
“Don’t say it,” he said urgently. A small silence followed, only inhabited by Ana’s heavy breathing on the line.  
Elijah had arrived to his apartment building. Not breaking the silence between them, he quickly greeted the caretaker, Mrs Mortimer, as he crossed the hall fast enough so she wouldn't have a chance to strike up a conversation. Then he got to running up the seven floors worth of stairs that separated him from his flat; many stairs to go down then up, every morning and then again in the evening ever since the elevator had done its last journey more than two months ago. Nobody came to fix it. Mrs Mortimer merely complained about it to Elijah and his neighbours when they went by during the day, but even she knew it was no use. Nobody would come. Elijah tried not to think about that too much, either. He went up the stairs.  
“Ana, you still there?” He asked quietly as he climbed.  
“Yeah…”  
“Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not getting paid for another two weeks, I can’t get you anymore. Fuck, Ana… how did you manage to take so many at once ? That can’t be good!”  
“Can’t be worse either.” She said bitterly.  
He couldn’t disagree, really. She had tried everything she could to stop the reactions, and the nightmares. Elijah had not stopped worrying since she had shown the first signs that something was wrong, four months ago, or maybe five, Elijah didn’t really keep tabs. Everyday was the same. But despite time passing, Ana wasn’t getting any better.  
He was in front of his door. He opened it, stepped in, threw his keys on the side table he kept there ― just for stuff, without even caring to switch on the lights, then quickly got rid of his damp jacket. Just thinking about putting that back on the next day, without giving it time to properly dry, was enough to kill what was left of his good mood.  
Running a hand through his wet hair, he thought of the small packet waiting in his backpack. Shitty pills. Horrible pills, sure to give nightmares, night terrors and all kinds of morning nausea. Pills he had bought for himself.  
He picked his phone up again, squeezing his tired eyes shut and pressing a few fingers to the warm eyelids. It wasn’t much of a choice.  
“Listen, I… I do have a few pills left. They’re bad, though. Nothing that could help you much, but it’s still something.”  
“Really ? Eli, you…”  
“It’s okay. I’ll drop by tomorrow, bring them to you. But that’s all I’ve got until two weeks, for real this time. You’ll have to manage. Alright?”  
“Of course. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for all―”  
“Shut up. You know I don’t work like that, not with family.”  
“Still…”  
“Goodbye, Ana. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“See you tomorrow.” She hung up before he did, with a smile audible in her goodbye.   
Elijah stood a minute, silent in his flat, before noticing he still hadn’t switched on the lights. Breathing a sigh, he finally felt on the wall for the light switch. His flat was still and silent, just like he’d left it in the morning. The couch, the piles of books, the old rug, the ridiculously small kitchen, and the door to the bedroom. Why did he even need a room for his bed? A shower, and a nice coffee, that was all Elijah needed to feel better.  
He got to it; let hot water pour onto his rain-soaked body, delighted at the way he could feel his muscles relaxing under the stream. He then got out, dried himself ― at last, then fished into his grocery bag for the coffee he’d bought earlier. His hand found the pill packet first, making him pause for a beat; looking at it thoughtfully. He couldn’t get more than an hour with those; and no good one too. But he could take one, just one, if he really wanted to. If he really needed it...  
He threw the packet further on the countertop, determined to forget about it. No sleep tonight either. No sleep for a while to go.  
Coffee, then. Smiling at the idea of the bitter hot liquid running down his throat, he opened the bag and dipped a spoon into the deliciously scented powder.  
A small click, familiar but wholly unexpected; the click of a camera, nearly made him drop both bag and spoon right then and there, all over the countertop.  
The voice soon followed the click, from Elijah's right.  
“Coffee at night, really? Low, even for you.”  
Elijah turned around, annoyed, to face this voice he knew all too well. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”  
He was right there, at the window, camera in hand and dripping hood pulled up over his head, carefully balanced on the treacherous fire escape stairway. Despite the hood hiding most of his face, Elijah still caught the smirk that appeared on his lips at his sharp remark.  
“You're just mad because I caught you in the act," he joked. "Well, may I come in? It’s freezing out there.”  
“Of course, Vic”, Elijah sighed, “close the window behind you.”  
Victor entered the room, shivering from head to toe in his damp jeans and his damp jacket. He closed the window, then came over towards Elijah.  
“Long time no see,” he teased, apparently in a good mood.  
“Not my fault.” said Elijah, pointing an accusing look at the taller man. Victor briefly averted his gaze, changing the subject.  
“You really gonna drink that?” he asked, gesturing with his chin towards the spoon full of coffee powder which Elijah was about to dump into the coffee machine. He was trying to act aloof, detached, but Elijah could hear the slight plea in his voice. It softened him, just a little. It annoyed him, even more.  
“None of your concern.” He pointed, emptying the spoon into the machine anyway.  
This night just kept going on with new vexations. Did Victor really have to come now? Tonight? Elijah hadn’t seen him in a while. Victor came and went as he liked; always by the fire escape, always wearing the same green jacket, a sweet smile, and troubling eyes. Elijah never knew what he thought, and Victor didn’t know much more about Elijah himself. That was the way their relationship worked: a couple of nights here and there, comforting laughter and tired bickering. Elijah had never stopped to think about the meaning of it all, except in a few weak moments, when Victor was away for too long, and Elijah still had no way of contacting him. He started wondering then; why was this all ok? Why did they settle for these strange meetings, secret and fast, and why did they not want more? He wondered, then, where Victor went in-between their shared evenings. Where did he live, what did he do? Who did he knew, and what did he like? Elijah didn’t know any of this. He only knew his voice, and his hands, and a few of his thoughts and tastes, but not many. Never more than that.  
But then Victor came back, wearing black jeans and a smile, and Elijah forgot to wonder. Forgot to think. Forgot to be. Victor came by the window and suddenly nothing else mattered; like magic, like a strange spell. Victor was strange like that.  
“Really, love, when was the last time you slept?”Victor asked, struggling to keep the detached façade now.  
Elijah looked at him, stopping his hand that was still digging for more coffee.  
“What’s your point?”  
“My point is you have some pretty shitty pills over there.” He said, eyeing at the forgotten box on the counter.  
“Yeah, well, can’t afford luxury, can I? Again, what’s your point?”  
Victor looked at him, eyes shining with unbearable worry. Elijah didn’t want that gaze on him. He had never meant it to become so close and personal. But it was happening again ― Victor was right there, so close to him, actually leaning into him like he was waiting for the green light. He was all dark. Dark eyes and darker hair, and dark secrets hidden behind his teeth. Next to him Elijah felt almost too light; brown hair in soft curls, hazel eyes, pink lips and a trembling heart. But Victor seemed to like him alright. He always came back, after all, climbed by the fire escape like a stray cat and ended up right there into his home, tugging at his shirt, begging for more. Elijah looked at him and allowed himself to feel it, for once. The way they clashed and the way they seemed to draw closer every time, like nothing could ever keep them apart for long.  
“My point is, what if you could have better luck?” Victor said, his breath so close to Elijah’s face that he could smell the rain on him. But Elijah was angry. He had other things in mind, tonight. Sucking on his breath, he pulled away.  
“Why are you here anyway?” He hissed; his best effort no to appear tempted.  
“Do I need a reason?” Victor asked, a smug smile stretching his lips. Elijah glared at him, playing with the spoon between his fingers, unsure to keep trying. “There’s always a reason, Vic.”  
Victor’s smile vanished into an uneasy pout. “You’re right. No point in lying. I wanted to see you because I missed you.”  
“That’s new.”  
“No, it’s not.”  
“Fine, alright, you missed me. So what? You can come back after ten days of perfect silence, you just climb by my window and hope for a nice couple hours with me? Then what? You leave again? Then what, Victor?”  
“It never bothered you before…”  
“Yes, Victor, it did! I just let it slide, because…”  
“Because what?”  
“Forget it...” he dismissed, going to the sink and filling up a cup of water.  
“Oh no. I’m not forgetting anything. I’m being honest here, so don’t you go all shy on me now!”  
Out of breath, out of patience, Elijah slammed the cup on the countertop in a loud clanging sound, nearly breaking in the process. He paid little attention to that: his eyes were on Victor.  
“Because I feared you wouldn’t come back at all, okay?” he cried out, “because I was afraid you’d just leave me alone here again and I wasn’t ready for that!”  
“Eli…”  
“No! You don’t get to be sorry now. I’m tired of it. Never knowing when I’ll see you next: i’m tired of it, can’t you understand?”  
“I can understand. And I am sorry. It’s true!” Victor stammered, rubbing his neck, suddenly very sheepish. Elijah dared not look at him anymore. He shut his eyes, tried to breath. He was so tired. So, so tired. He thought of this coffee he kept trying to make. Coffee sure did sound amazing to his overworked brain.  
“So, uh…” he heard Victor try, “why yell at me now? Are you not afraid anymore?”  
“Of course I’m afraid, you idiot. And I’m not yelling. I’m just, I’m too fed up to care anymore. I’m tired, okay? I’m done.”  
“Are you mad at me? Should I go?”  
Suddenly, the idea of being left alone instead of having Victor at home felt unbearable. Why was he so angry again? Nonsense, exhaustion, deprivation of both sleep and caffeine, and probably a proper meal as well. Suddenly Elijah didn’t care; he just wanted Victor to stay. “No!” he exclaimed too eagerly, regretting the tone at once; “oh, I don’t know. Do what you want, that’s what you always do anyway.”  
Stupid. Did he really have to be rude? His words always rushed out of his mind and then out from his lips before he could even comprehend what he was thinking. Counterproductive. He tried to remind himself that he wanted Victor to stay, not to anger him.  
“Eli…”  
“What?” He asked in the same annoyed tone, trying not to melt, but failing, at the plea in Victor’s voice. Sweet man. He should have gone already. He shouldn’t ever try to put up with Elijah’s moods.  
“Please don’t make coffee. Please, not tonight.” He said instead, still very close, still very pleading. Elijah felt all his walls crumble to nothing, felt very thin and weak and ready to lean into this man he kept trying to reject without any success.  
Still… Victor at his side or not, Elijah could not stand one more minute without some caffeine in his bloodstream. He felt the beginning of a headache creeping up on him, and his legs threatened to simply stop holding him up if he insisted on staying up. Victor was very sweet and Elijah wanted him close. He also wanted some damn coffee.  
“Victor, this is very cute and all, but if I have to spend one more night half in a daze, waiting for the morning to come, I fear I will actually go mad. So I’m sorry, but I’m making coffee.”  
To prove his point, he went to pick up a towel to clean up all the water that had gone flying over the counter when he had shoved the cup down. Then he filled the cup again, and came back to the coffee machine. Never, from memory, had he ever struggled so much just to prepare one cup of coffee for his poor tired self.  
“How many cups did you drink today, love?”  
“Don’t call me love. None of your concern.”  
“Too embarrassed to say?”  
“Okay,” Elijah snapped, shooting a daring glance at him, “how many cigarettes did you smoke today?”  
“Too many.” Victor answered too quickly, a cocky smile curling at his lips.  
“Shit, Vic. You really gotta stop that. They’ll fry your lungs.”  
A gentle hand came to stop, once again, Elijah’s own from pushing the starting button on the machine. Then the fingers unfurled, gentle as ever, seeking hold onto his palm and wrist. A warm hand; Victor’s hand.  
“I’m here now, am I not ? What do you say we go to bed?” His eyes were too intense, terribly dark with temptation.“I can’t, Vic… I can’t bear to take those pills.”  
“You bought them, didn’t you?”  
“Purely for emergency. I’m not quite there yet.”  
“Oh, I think you are. I think you deserve a good night, don’t you?”  
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”  
“What if I told you I had solution?” He said, barely a whisper against Elijah’s ear.  
A shiver crawling down his spine, Elijah pulled back a little to look at Victor’s face.  
“Victor… not this again.”  
“Don’t ask. Just take it.”  
Elijah dropped his gaze, discovering a small pill between Victor’s fingers. Dark blue. Not the best, but so much better than the shitty blue. Legend said even dreams could happen with those, sometimes, when they were actually defective. Who knew? The dreams might even be good. And there it was, right at a finger’s reach from Elijah. Sleep sounded so good just about now. Sleep and Victor’s arms all night… but it was one single pill; only one, dancing between Victor’s fingers. All those questions that never left Elijah’s mind suddenly came swirling back: Why? How? And many more, that Elijah didn’t dare to ask even in his own mind. He pursed his lips, shaking his head.  
“No,” he said, wanting Victor gone, wanting him even closer in his arms.  
“Elijah, please, love…”  
“No,” he repeated, thoughts thumping at his temples, throat tight and dry with so many things to say and scream and... Elijah wanted to feel anything other than void for once, to forget all about sleep ― to forget about the pills. He wanted Victor to understand that sleep had become so rare that it was all he could think about all day long while the cleaned and scrubbed bleak empty labs that reeked of chemicals with strong products that smelled even worse and burned into his skin, into those very hands that Victor was holding so very gently right now, and it all went on, one room after the other, the sound of his cart rolling on tiles echoing through the long corridors, all these sounds and smells and tedious, tedious hours all blurred under the same bright, piercing light that screamed at Elijah to close his eyes, to close them, but his eyes... his eyes he could never close. He wanted to tell him all this, but the words were stuck in his chest and his fingers were already on Victor’s arms, featherlight, considering. He was right there, with his dark eyes heavy with want and worry. Ten days. Elijah had almost forgotten how warm he felt when Victor was so close.  
And goddamn ― wasn’t that smile charming.  
“You only have one, though…” he managed in a whisper, duly tempted.  
“Could share it.” Victor answered matter-of-factly, slowly swaying them right there in the silent kitchen. “...Would last us about two hours, maybe even three if we’re lucky.”  
That was it; Elijah didn’t need much more convincing. Everything was always so easy with Victor. So simple and pure. How did he do it? Elijah didn’t really want to know. He only wanted to feel him close, and the rest, all the rest, could wait until tomorrow.  
And so he let go one more time. Let himself melt into his lover, into his lips like they could make all the bleakness vanish, into his body like he needed him more than he ever needed sleep anyway. They shared the tiny sour pill; split it in half, breaking it with teeth, then they lay in each other’s arms, quiet, waiting for sleep to come, watching the moon draw lines onto the sheets and make art out of their bodies.  
Would Victor still be here in the morning? How long would this sleep last? Elijah didn’t know. He didn’t care. He breathed into Victor’s shoulder, warm and still into the night. He felt it coming, like a wave rushes to wash the shore of debris and dead algae and broken seashells. At last, at last. He fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hello there.
> 
> This is a first, ongoing draft for a new project I am working on. At present, I am still not completely done with the outlining, so it might still be altered as I work on it!  
I just wanted to post a few chapters somewhere to get a feel for it, and test possible reception.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.  
Please also note that English not being my first language, you might find some odd stuff in there! If you do, I hope I can fix it soon. For this very reason, feedback would mean the world to me!
> 
> Thanks again.


End file.
